Folie a Deux
by Nmissi
Summary: If "normal again" were the reality... where was Spike?


"Folie a deux"  
  
By Nmissi  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. I know zip about schizophrenia beyond what Google can pull up in a fast search. This is unbetaed and raw. Sorry.  
  
Feedback: Nmissi@bellsouth.net  
  
  
  
Dr. Ramier pored over his notes, looking for something to explain where things had gone so wrong. Brief lucidity last spring, recovery during the summer, followed by psychotic break in September…  
  
There had been no warning signs. There were ALWAYS warning signs.  
  
Zyprexa, Seroquil, Risperdal, Clozaril, and Haldol. The girl's chart read like a pharmaceutical ad for schizophrenia. Nothing ever worked.  
  
There would be no more responses to stimuli, there would be no further recoveries. In twenty two years treating patients, he'd never seen a more pronounced withdrawal from reality than the Summers' girl.  
  
He rubbed absently at the bridge of his nose, beneath the frame of his glasses, and let the horrible sensation of failure wash over him. He knew logically that he could not save them all. It didn't make it any easier to accept.  
  
Glancing at the clock, he shuffled the notes back into the file and got up from his desk.  
  
"Do you really think it will help?"  
  
Mrs. Summers' hopeful expression was like a knife in his heart. He smiled reassuringly and stood up straighter.  
  
"Ma'am, I don't want to give you false hope. The Clozaril was our best course of treatment, a last resort- you saw how it pulled her free of her delusions for a moment. I don't think putting her into the general environment will suddenly cure her. If I did, we'd have had her there long since. But it's possible she'll respond to the presence of others, however slightly. We need her to pull back to THIS reality, in whatever way she can, in order to treat her condition."  
  
Hank Summers' frowned. "No. I don't want her near him. I see what you're doing and I think it's a bad idea; I want another opinion."  
  
Dr. Ramier lowered his voice and tried to speak soothingly. "Mr. Summers, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for what happened to your daughter. The hospital has amended it's policies and changed some of the security measures. The lawsuit was settled; you did choose to keep Buffy here in our care. Dr. Giles has been dismissed. I will see to it that no harm comes to her."  
  
Hank's voice was gritty. "Can you promise me she will not be raped? Can you? Because if she is around that boy again-"  
  
"Mr. Summers, I know it's difficult to imagine that anything about that incident was positive. But you don't understand how extremely uncommon a shared delusion is in adult schizophrenics. The instances of folie a deux are quite rare- somehow, Buffy and William transferred ideas and behaviors to an unprecedented degree. We're still trying to figure out how so much of what they both believe to be real was transferred from one to the other."  
  
"I should think that's obvious," said Joyce coldly. "My daughter believes herself to be a Vampire Slayer. That boy believes himself to be a vampire."  
  
He shook his head. "It's an experiment, that's all. They will be monitored the entire time, I promise you. You will both be present."  
  
Hank shook his head. "I don't like it."  
  
Dr. Ramier acknowledged his discomfort with a slight nod. "I understand that. But at this point, our options are limited."  
  
Everything went well until Liam and his wife stepped into the observation room. Suddenly, it was the courtroom all over again.  
  
Hank got to his feet quickly. "What are they doing here?" he asked the doctor.  
  
"I'm not gonna stand by silently while your daughter tries to kill my son again," the other man spat.  
  
Darla, his wife, sneered at the Summers' with cool disdain. "Or while you concoct another phony rape charge against a sick boy." She shook out her blonde curls as she removed her sunglasses, then she took a graceful seat in front of the long window, turning her back on the other couple indifferently.  
  
Dr. Ramier stepped between the angry men, hands out, as he mollified them.  
  
"Gentlemen, this is a hospital. If you insist on acting like this, I'll have you both removed. Is that understood?"  
  
Liam and Hank both backed down unwillingly, but the heightened tension in the observation room lingered, making nerves brittle and setting tempers on edge.  
  
Through the window they could see the day room. Brightly painted murals on the walls, and lots of windows letting the sunlight in. Patients milled about the room, engaged in various activities- some painted at an art center, others amused themselves with puzzles at the long table before the windows.  
  
The couples watched as orderlies came in and began escorting patients out, one at a time, until the room was empty.  
  
"I thought the point of this little exercise was to expose him to the presence of other people," asked Liam suspiciously.  
  
"It is," Dr. Ramier reassured him. "But I wanted there to be plenty of room in case either of them become confrontational or violent. We don't want another episode like the kiln room."  
  
He lowered his head, embarrassed, remembering how that event had led to the lawsuit that destroyed Dr. Giles' career. " If they should become aggressive, in a large open space such as this, there should be no problem getting enough orderlies in to subdue them.  
  
He hoped he was right. There had been thousands of dollars worth of damage done before; they'd broken the kiln, destroyed the supplies- they'd actually managed to crack the walls.  
  
Somehow they'd sealed the room off by moving the heavy kiln against the door, and managed to be alone together almost the full night. By morning, the damage had been done, both to the room and to the hospital's reputation.  
  
Not that he thought anything like that was even remotely possible this time. Buffy Summers was deeply into a psychotic break with reality; failing to respond to physical stimuli in any meaningful manner.  
  
And yet he desperately wished she'd have the strength to attack his orderlies and his patients again. He'd accept any little sign that she was still in there.  
  
The door on the far end of the day room reopened, and two orderlies shambled in, carrying William between them.  
  
"Is that absolutely necessary, Doctor?" asked Darla, her voice strained. "Tying his feet and hands that way?"  
  
"I don't see any other way to assure my people's safety, Ma'am," he responded. "He's fully tranqued up as it is."  
  
The boy fought inside his straightjacket. His short dark hair was plastered against his head in sweaty curls. The orderlies wrestled him into a chair under the window. One unfortunate brought his arm in a little too close to William's face, and got teeth in his flesh for it.  
  
"Aaarrhhh!" hissed the boy, as the other man shocked him with a rod in his hand.  
  
"lowlevel electrical device, nothing more," Dr. Ramier explained to William's parents. "Nonlethal tazer. It's the only thing that stops the biting."  
  
Liam grimaced, and Darla brushed a tear away from her eyelid. "My poor boy," she whispered.  
  
Joyce Summers struggled to steel her heart against the scene, but she couldn't. His blue eyes seemed to search the observation window as if he could see them beyond the one way glass. There was such a look of pain and fear in them that it made her ache to see it.  
  
Darla turned to face Joyce, and for a moment Joyce forgot to see the enemy. Here was another mother, in the same pain she herself felt. Here was a kindred soul.  
  
"I wish you could have seen him when he was healthy," Darla went on. She smiled at the memory. "He was so smart, so eloquent. Oh, he was never very popular- he wasn't good at sports, and growing up here in California that's practically a sin! But he was brilliant. And so sensitive. He shined, Mrs. Summers. He had the most beautiful, poetic soul."  
  
Liam scoffed and rolled his eyes as Darla shot a glare at him. "He was a damned sissy, and now he's a nut," he said bluntly.  
  
On the other side of the glass, William's eyes darted about the room fearfully, and his breathing began to grow shallow and irregular.  
  
"Shit," said Liam. He looked over at the doctor. "He's having an asthma attack."  
  
The orderlies moved in to help him, carefully offering the inhaler and remaining alert for bite attempts.  
  
His breathing steadied, but his fight against the restraints went on. Then the door opened again, and two more orderlies brought in the girl, limply hanging from their arms. Her eyes were dazed, her stare as blank as her thoughts were vacant. They dropped her into a chair.  
  
The boy's struggles ceased, as he found her. His head cocked to one side as he studied her.  
  
The girl's empty eyes focused, and she raised her head to meet his gaze.  
  
"Spike."  
  
His lips turned up into a smarmy grin as she recognized him.  
  
"Slayer," he breathed. 


End file.
